Chapter 13: Helluva Morning!

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Chapter 13

Charlie smiled at her peacefully sleeping girlfriend, her eyes lovingly staring at the curled-up figure of Vaggie. The monotone moth was always more subdued when she slept, her usual fiery temperament replaced with a tranquil serenity that Charlie found endlessly captivating. This was the Vaggie that only she got to see, the vulnerable side hidden behind the tough exterior.

Gently, Charlie ran her fingers through her girlfriend's stark white hair, adoring how the strands felt between her fingertips. She let out a soft sigh, her heart swelling with love for the woman beside her.

"Vaggie," she whispered, her voice barely audible so as not to disturb her slumber. "I wish you could see yourself like I do."

Charlie's gaze wandered across Vaggie's face, tracing down from the delicate arch of her brow to the line of her jaw, then to the curve of her lips. A faint smile tickled at the corner of Vaggie's mouth, eliciting a quiet laugh from Charlie.

Deciding to let her rest undisturbed, Charlie pulled the duvet closer to her and got out of bed. The moth shifted slightly in her sleep but didn't wake, snuggling deeper into the covers of warmth and comfort. In response, Charlie pressed a soft kiss to the top of Vaggie's head and whispered sweet dreams into her ear.

In these quiet moments when it was just the two of them together, Charlie felt like everything would be okay. No matter what chaos erupted outside their bedroom walls in the infernal pits of Hell - as long as she had Vaggie by her side, the rest of the world could burn.

She wished this moment would last forever…

But sadly, redeeming sinners and running the Hotel demanded her attention, it needed her care and dedication just like Vaggie did.

Charlie moved quietly across the room, grabbing a silk robe draped over the back of a chair. The cool fabric felt soothing against her skin as she tied it around her waist, briefly glancing back at Vaggie who was still peacefully asleep.

It wasn't easy running a business in Hell and trying to save doomed souls; not everyone was open to redemption, and progress was slow. Yet, with each new helping hand, Charlie's resolve strengthened.

She wanted to create a place that could bring out the best in people and redeem them, especially for those who had lost their way.

As she stepped out of their bedroom and into the dimly lit hallway of the Hotel, she wished for a moment of peace before the day's chaos started. Her footsteps were quiet on the cold floor, but even in this deep silence, her mind was loud with thoughts of the day ahead.

Her first stop was the kitchen where she intended to whip up breakfast for everyone in the hotel.

Usually, it was Vaggie who would prepare breakfast, yet Charlie enjoyed cooking too. It was another way she could care for those in the hotel, through the humble act of preparing a warm meal.

As she neared the kitchen, she paused.

The unmistakable sound of sizzling met her ears, accompanied by the wafting scent of something deliciously warm. It wasn't just food; it was food made with love and care.

Stepping into the kitchen, Charlie was met with a surprising sight.

Charlie spotted Alastor, clad in an apron and wielding a spatula like a maestro conducting an orchestra. His typical devil-may-care smile was replaced with a look of concentration as he flipped pancakes high into the air and caught them with ease.

"Alastor?" she questioned softly, her voice filled with surprise as she watched him moving about the kitchen.

Alastor had his back to her, completely absorbed in his cooking endeavor. His radio-like voice humming an unfamiliar tune softly under his breath creating an odd but comforting symphony of sounds along with the crackling of the gas stove and sizzling of butter on hot pans.

Charlie leaned against the doorframe, taking a moment to watch him work. It was fascinating to see how someone as chaotic and unpredictable as the Radio Demon took such meticulous care in preparing breakfast. His every move was precise and measured, ensuring that each pancake was perfectly golden brown.

She watched as Alastor's maroon hair fell over his eyes as he worked on the food, and how he would impatiently brush it back with his forearm when it got in his way. He looked almost human when he wasn't spinning wicked words or creating chaos.

The princess of hell shook her head to rid herself of such thoughts when she remembered what Vaggie told her about her past with him. He may seem different now, but there was a time when his charm had turned into a nightmare for Vaggie. Charlie clenched her fists; she couldn't forget that. She cared about Vaggie more than anyone in this world, and Alastor had hurt her.

…But as she observed Alastor's figure hunched over the stove, she couldn't help but wonder if he was genuinely trying to make amends. Was the seemingly heartless radio demon capable of remorse? Of redemption?

Shaking off her conflicting thoughts, Charlie cleared her throat to get his attention.

"Alastor?" she called out again, this time louder.

The demon froze for a moment before turning around, his crimson eyes meeting Charlie's.

His signature smile slipped back onto his face as he recognized her.

"Well, if it isn't the darling princess herself," his voice had a warm timbre to it as he spun around to face her revealing an apron emblazoned with 'Kiss the Cook'. His sharp crimson eyes flickered with amusement at her surprised look. "Early riser today, aren't we?"

"Seems like we both are." She quirked an eyebrow at him, leaning against the kitchen counter. Her gaze then drifted to the stack of pancakes sitting comfortably on a nearby plate that was enough for everyone in the hotel. They looked deliciously fluffy and golden brown.

"To what do I owe this pleasure for you to be up so early?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she shot back. "What are you doing here so early?"

Alastor shrugged nonchalantly, turning to flip another pancake in the air. "Why, I just felt like making breakfast today~"

Charlie watched him skeptically but decided not to press further. As long as Alastor wasn't causing trouble, it didn't matter why he was in the kitchen so early.

"Fair enough," she conceded, pushing off the counter to make her way to her office to do some work seeing as breakfast was already handled.

As she did, Alastor's voice rang out behind her.

"Princess, would you mind doing me the honor of being my taste tester?"

Charlie stopped in her tracks, turning back to face the radio demon. His face was innocent enough but there was a glint in his eyes that made her hesitate. Still, it wasn't like him to poison anyone – not when he could torment them alive instead.

"I suppose..." she murmured, returning to her spot at the counter.

Alastor beamed, plating up a pancake while dribbling it with syrup and handing it over with an overly dramatic flourish. Charlie raised a brow at his antics but took the offered plate, nonetheless. It smelled divine and she found herself hoping it tasted as good as it smelled.

She cut a small piece with her fork and popped it into her mouth. To her surprise, it tasted even better than it smelled – lightly sweetened and fluffy.

"Well?" Alastor asked, a touch of eagerness creeping into his usually composed demeanor.

"Delicious," she admitted, taking another bite with gusto. "You're quite the chef!"

Alastor preened under the praise as he moved to make another pale. "Why thank you, princess~"

Charlie watched with a raised eyebrow as he put much more care and effort into this plate compared to hers.

"Who's that one for?" She asked curiosity piqued as he carefully spooned whipped cream on top, forming a fluffy cloud.

Alastor paused, glancing over his shoulder to meet her questioning gaze. "Oh, this? This one is for Vaggie."

Charlie's heart clenched at the mention of her lover's name, a sinking feeling in her gut. She placed her fork down next to her half-eaten pancake.

"I don't think she's going to eat breakfast today," Charlie stated, hoping he'll get the hint.

Alastor shrugged nonchalantly, turning back to his task, his eyes were focused on the plate in front of him, a soft smile etched on his face.

"Perhaps she'll make an exception."

The overlord delicately placed fresh strawberries around the rim of the plate and drizzled them with honey.

The unspoken words lingered in the space between them, like a sealed envelope waiting to be opened. Charlie nervously chewed on her lip, wondering what his intentions were.

Seeing him put so much thought into this, Charlie started to understand what Vaggie meant when she admitted to having feelings for him once. Alastor, despite his chaotic persona and dark past, had a charm about him like a discordant melody that somehow strikes a chord within you.

"No, it's not just about breakfast, Alastor," Charlie said finally, mustering the courage to meet his gaze. "What I mean is Vaggie doesn't want to see you... at all"

Alastor's hand stilled, the knife he was using to slice a piece of fruit poised in midair. He remained silent for a long moment, the tension rocking between them like a seesaw on an unsteady playground. Slowly, he lowered his hands back to the counter, folding them neatly in front of him as he turned to face her.

His expression was unreadable.

"Vaggie needs space," Charlie explained, folding her arms across her chest in a subconscious protective gesture. "She's...confused."

A flicker of something like disappointment passed over Alastor's face before his expression became unreadable. He didn't respond immediately, instead taking his time to absorb what Charlie had just said.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, sounding more like a drawn-out sigh than anything.

"…I see," he replied simply, his voice devoid of any emotion. "So, she wants me to keep my distance…"

Charlie bit her lower lip, trying to decipher what was going through his mind. She watched as he flicked his gaze back to the unfinished plate prepared for Vaggie, the finality of her statement sinking in.

"Until she figures things out-" Charlie started but didn't finish her sentence.

"I understand!" Alastor cut her off, his voice coming out as a mere whisper in the otherwise hushed kitchen.

But despite his words, Charlie could see the hurt flicker briefly in those crimson eyes. Alastor was a master at hiding his emotions, but even he had slipped up this time. He moved back to his work, meticulously arranging the last of the fruit on the plate. The kitchen was now quiet - save for the faint sizzling of pancakes and the clinking of dishes.

"I'll give her space then," Alastor finally spoke, his voice unnaturally flat and devoid of its usual energy. He didn't turn to face Charlie, his eyes fixed on his laboriously prepared plate.

Suddenly, he froze, his gaze lingering on something in particular. Was it a sad reminiscence? Or a silent plea for things to be different? Either way, he continued to work on the plate, which felt oddly heart-wrenching to watch.

Charlie felt her emotions stir at sight, despite knowing what he had done and how much he had hurt Vaggie. She was the type that that always looked for the good in everyone and seeing him this way…

She couldn't help but feel compassion for the demon. Of course, it didn't excuse his past actions but perhaps...maybe he was truly remorseful?

"Alastor, I..." Charlie began, faltering as she searched for the right words to say. But what could she say? She couldn't comfort him nor change Vaggie's decision for her.

"It's alright, princess," Alastor responded, turning back towards her with a forced smile on his face. "I've always been one for respecting a lady's wishes."

He focused his attention on the unfinished dish and continued to decorate it with care.

"If there's anything she needs, tell her she can rely on me,"

Alastor said after a moment, breaking the silence in the room. His voice was subdued and soft, a stark contrast to his typical flamboyant tone.

Charlie nodded wordlessly, finding herself unable to respond as she watched him place a cherry on top of the whipped cream. It was clear that Alastor was trying to make amends, if not for his past actions, then for the current situation and its impact on Vaggie.

He finally turned around to face Charlie again, a small smile playing on his lips - so different from his usual grin. It was devoid of malice or mischief, but full of sadness and regret.

Charlie watched as he took the beautifully arranged plate and slid it into her hand. She could feel herself shudder at the way his hand grazed hers, before looking away from the plate and up at him.

"As you said she doesn't want to see me at all," He said softly, "Could you...?"

Charlie nodded again and accepted the plate gently, the breakfast looked divine; fruits neatly arranged around a fluffy pancake topped with whipped cream and syrup. And despite her worries for Vaggie and her relationship with Alastor, she found herself hoping Vaggie would accept this small peace offering.

"Of course!" Charlie assured him in a gentle tone, "I'll definitely give this to her."

Alastor's eyes softened at her words, and he gave a slow nod of appreciation before stepping back from the stove and taking his apron off.

"Thank you…"

Just then, footsteps echoed down the hallway and Mayberry emerged through the door, rubbing sleep from her eyes. When she saw Alastor in their kitchen, however, any trace of drowsiness disappeared.

"Alastor, what are you doing here?" she asked, her eyes flashing to the exquisite breakfast that Charlie was holding.

"Just making breakfast for everyone," Alastor responded smoothly, his usual charisma creeping back into his voice. He bowed slightly to Mayberry before stepping around her to leave the kitchen.

Mayberry watched him go, her eyes lingering on his retreating back. She turned back to Charlie, her expression wavering between disbelief and annoyance but when she saw the genuine concern in Charlie's expression, she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I can see there's a lot more going on here than just breakfast," Mayberry mumbled as she moved deeper into the kitchen to grab herself a cup of coffee.

"Yeah…" Charlie admitted quietly, shifting weight from one foot to another awkwardly. The plate felt heavy in her hands now, its significance weighing down upon her.

"It's not for me to get involved with," Mayberry stated matter-of-factly. She poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and took a sip, enjoying the hot liquid going down her throat.

With a plate in her hand and determination in her heart, Charlie made her way out of the kitchen and toward Vaggie's room.

Mayberry was left alone in the kitchen, her thoughts wandering as she sipped her coffee. She absently reached for a stray strawberry that Alastor had left behind on the cutting board, popping it into her mouth as she reflected on the unusual encounter.

She remembered the commercial she saw about I.M.P; a small agency that specialized in fulfilling revenge on the living. The thought of Martha being alive somewhere, after all that had happened, didn't sit well with her, it stirred a familiar cold anger inside of her and made her fingers clutch the edge of the counter tighter till it cracked.

She knew holding on to a grudge wasn't healthy, but the thought of that bitch getting away with everything... Mayberry shook her head, the bitterness in her heart threatening to overwhelm her. With a deep exhale, she released her grip on the countertop, the ceramic tiling underneath her fingers cold and unforgiving.

Heart pounding, she decided to seek help from the only person who was more than willing to help her. He might not be everyone's idea of a savior, but he was powerful and feared. If there was anyone who could get something done it was him.

She drained the last of her coffee and stood from the barstool, squaring her shoulders as she left the kitchen. She didn't have to go far to find him, seeing as he was sitting at the Hotel's bar drinking away despite the early hour.

Husk was begrudgingly serving him drinks already cleaning more than a few glass cups that the overlord finished. The Radio Demon nursed a glass of what appeared to be whiskey, his eyes fixed on the amber liquid as he swirled it around in the glass.

Husk, the surly bartender, shot Alastor a glance as he polished a glass with a rag.

"Never seen you drink so early in the morning," Husk grumbled, setting the glass down with a clink. "Don't tell me you became an alcoholic?"

Alastor chuckled, though the sound lacked its usual mirth.

"Nothing like that I'm afraid," he replied, taking a sip of his drink and finishing it off, this being his fifth one. "Perhaps just a bit of... unrequited sentimentality."

Husk raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

"You? Sentimental? That's rich." He poured another drink for Alastor, shaking his head.

As Alastor downed his drink, the amber liquid burned a trail down his throat and settled warmly in his stomach. He signaled for another round, feeling the effects of the alcohol slowly start to take hold.

Just as he was about to turn back to his thoughts, Mayberry swept in and took the seat next to him. Her eyes were like lasers, piercing through the dimly lit bar while the corner of her lips tugged downwards, her expression set with a sharp glare that could cut through steel.

"Alastor," she called, her voice cutting through the low hum of the bar's atmosphere. "I need your help."

Alastor turned to face her, his crimson eyes glinting with curiosity as he brought another glass of whisky to his lips.

"Oh? And what would you need help with, my dear?"

Mayberry took a deep breath, her resolve unwavering. "You said it was impossible for sinners to return back to the mortal realm, correct?"

"I did," Alastor nodded, swirling the whiskey in his glass before taking another long sip, remembering their past conversation.

His crimson eyes watched her over the edge of his glass, burning with a flame that seemed to hint at a deep-rooted knowledge of all of Hell's secrets.

"But what if I told you I found a way?" Mayberry asked, her tone quiet but firm as if staking her claim on a long-lost treasure. Her fingers twitched on the surface of the bar counter; the glossy oak polished to such perfection that it reflected her tense visage. "A way to get revenge without having to go back."

Alastor's eyebrows arched upwards in amusement as he set down his empty glass, Husk pouring him another glass without a word.

"Now that does pique my curiosity. Do share."

"I need some money," she began, swallowing hard over the lump forming in her throat. "A considerable amount of it."

She paused for a moment to gauge Alastor's reaction.

He seemed unperturbed by her proclamation, his fingers curling around his glass while the corners of his mouth danced into an intrigued smile.

"Money in exchange for revenge," Alastor leaned back in his barstool, his face slightly flushed, eyeing Mayberry with an unreadable expression. "That does sound like a delightfully fun investment~"

(And a good distraction)

Mayberry sighed in relief; that was just the reaction she'd been hoping for.

"Go on," Alastor encouraged, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

Mayberry took another deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to say.

"I've come across some information about an organization here in Hell specifically in imp city. They call themselves I.M.P. It stands for Immediate Murder Professionals," she paused, glancing at Alastor's face for any sign of recognition.

"I.M.P?" Alastor repeated, rolling the name around his tongue as if tasting its potential.

"I didn't think you'd know them," she confessed, her hands playing with the glass before her that Husk handed her.

"Oh, my dear sweet lady," Alastor replied with a chuckle that held humor. "I don't, but you have my full attention."

She nodded and continued, "They're run by an imp named Blitz and they can travel to the mortal realm and kill humans in exchange for money."

Alastor's amusement faded as he considered what she'd just said. His gaze sharpened, the fire in his eyes glowing brighter as if the very idea fed his interest. The air around him seemed to grow thicker, heavier with an energy that wasn't there before.

"That... is indeed interesting." His voice was low, almost a purr as he spoke. His gaze never left hers. "A hell-born demon killing humans for business…"

Mayberry nodded slowly, watching him carefully over the rim of her glass.

"You sound surprised?"

"I am," Alastor responded back, allowing his surprise to wash over his features. "I knew the hell-born could travel to the human world, but I have never heard of them doing so to kill humans."

"And they made a whole business out of it, that's something new," he murmured, musing over the implications. His long fingers tapped a rhythm on the side of his glass, his tawny eyes thoughtful. "It seems Hell has grown a lot more inventive since I've been gone."

Mayberry waited for him to continue, her sharp gaze watching him as he pondered.

"How reliable is your source?" Alastor queried, turning his attention back to her. 

"Enough," she replied, clutching her own drink tighter not wanting to share that she got it from a terrible advertisement on TV. 

A pause lingered between them. 

Alastor's silence set Mayberry on edge, but she was wise enough not to push for an immediate response from him.

Finally, he broke the silence. 

"Alright, my dear," he declared, eyes flaring up with renewed enthusiasm. "Consider me intrigued~"

A rush of relief crashed over her like a gentle wave at sea, causing her to instinctively lean against the bar counter for support. She had braced herself for rejection, but instead, his acceptance was a welcome surprise. The tension in her body dissipated as she exhaled, feeling a sense of weight lifted off her shoulders.

"No time to waste!" Alastor drowning his drink with ease and slamming the empty glass onto the counter. "Let's go meet our would-be killers!"

"W-Wha-?"

Mayberry's breath caught in her throat as he seized her hand and tugged her into his embrace. Suddenly, they were enveloped by his shadow and vanished from the hotel leaving behind Husker to clean their cups.

Husk watched as the two disappeared and shook his head with a sigh. He could already tell things were going to get chaotic with Alastor coming back from whatever the fuck he disappeared to.

"Ohhhhh Husssskkkkkkkyyyyyyy!!!!!" The sound of Angel Dust's voice rang out throughout the hotel. 

The feeling of the headache that formed earlier when he was talking with Alastor increased in size when he heard the spider call out his name.